


You Must Remember This

by Yahtzee



Series: UB Season Five: New York, New York [9]
Category: Ugly Betty
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, wackiness ensues, wardrobe malfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-08
Updated: 2011-04-08
Packaged: 2017-10-17 18:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/179812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yahtzee/pseuds/Yahtzee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the hostage crisis, Betty's doing much better -- except for the fact that she believes it's 2006. In order to help her, Daniel takes charge of creating the illusion, but the trip down Memory Lane is more bruising than he anticipated. Meanwhile, Hilda and Bobby get creative, and Ignacio reclaims his beloved kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Must Remember This

__

_Wait – where are my braces?_

Betty sat upright on the hospital bed, then winced as her temples pounded with a crushing headache. Apparently Daniel Meade had been telling the truth about something hitting her very hard at MODE; this job was the gift that kept on giving –

 _Don’t think that way. You’re getting your foot in the door. Everybody has to start somewhere, right? You’ll be just great! … eventually._

“Take it easy,” the nurse said, handing her a small paper cup containing two Tylenol; apparently the paper-cup service was what made the Tylenol worth $8 apiece. Betty, who had been forced to scrutinize every line of her father’s medical bills, knew to the penny how much her care was costing. But this would be workman’s comp, wouldn’t it? “You need to go slow.”

“I’ve been in this hospital room for more than a day,” Betty insisted. “How much slower can I go? I feel lots better; I promise. And hey, did you guys remove my braces?”

The nurse hesitated before answering her question; people seemed to be doing that a lot. “Some head injuries might, ah, require the removal of braces to … hmm. To properly examine the jaw.”

“Huh.” Betty ran her tongue over her teeth. They felt – pretty good, actually. Maybe Dr. Farkus would say she didn’t even need to put the braces back on.

Despite this accident at MODE – and the fact that she was stuck at a fashion magazine – and her new boss’ endless, picayune demands – and Walter’s faithlessness – yes, despite all that, there was reason to have hope. To take courage.

So why did Hilda keep looking at her like she was going to shatter at any second?

Well, older sisters could be overprotective sometimes.

**

“If she doesn’t snap outta this soon, I swear, I’m gonna hit her in the head again and see if that puts things back where they belong!” Hilda said, gesturing toward Daniel’s forehead as if he would provide the trial run. He scooted back in his chair. “She asked me if I’ve seen Gina Gambarro around with Walter. She wants to know if it’s too early to volunteer for Hillary Clinton’s presidential campaign. She doesn’t know who Lady Gaga is. It’s just not right seeing her like this!”

Daniel knew Hilda was being dramatic for effect, but he suspected he was even more frustrated than she was. “How long is this going to last? Another day? Two?”

The doctor – his last name was pronounced Spah-cheh-men, but spelled Spaceman, which was weird – cocked his head to one side, considering. “You never can tell. Why, back in the ‘70s, I was hit in the head with some debris from Skylab. Still have no idea where South America is to this day!”

Hilda and Daniel traded glances, a sort of duel of silent freaking out. It was Hilda who managed to speak first. “You mean – you think Betty might never get her memory back?”

The thought of losing all that time … losing the incredible relationship he and Betty had built during the past four years, made Daniel feel slightly sick inside. He hadn’t cared about a couple days’ short delay before they could be together. Then her amnesia covered the entire weekend, and he’d killed time by remembering that one amazing kiss they’d shared and resolving to relive it over and over and over, as soon as possible. It had never occurred to him that he really might lose what he and Betty shared for good.

But Dr. Spaceman chuckled and shook his head. “Highly unlikely. She’s already healed from the head injury, except for that gash we had to stitch shut. And the headaches. Other than that, fine! And perhaps she’ll never remember the whole hostage incident, which cuts down on her chances of selling the story to TMZ, am I right? At this point, however, Betty’s amnesia is probably more psychological than physiological in origin.”

“What does that mean?” Daniel demanded.

“Well, psychological means, you know, the ol’ noggin, bats in the belfry, crazytown!” Dr. Spaceman made a little whirly gesture beside his head. “Physiological means something from hard science. I try not to worry about such things.”

Daniel was fast becoming more worried about the doctor than the patient, but he doggedly kept on. “There have been tons of things she should have noticed already – like the change in her hair, the fact that the two of us both look a little older – ”

“Speak for yourself,” Hilda muttered.

Plowing ahead, Daniel continued, “Betty should have realized something’s not right by now, but she hasn’t. Does that mean she’s not … allowing herself to remember?”

“Precisely. Her situation was too overwhelming, so she just checked out. Erased a period of time she found it difficult to remember. Haven’t we all done that once in a while?” Dr. Spaceman grinned the vacant grin of someone who had checked out a long time ago. “When Betty feels safer and more secure again, and allows herself to believe that the danger is truly over, she’ll remember everything. So if you owe her any money, don’t assume you won’t have to pay up.”

Hilda brightened. “So all we’ve gotta do is make Betty feel safe. Just – get her home? Fix her some of her favorite foods, something like that?”

Dr. Spaceman nodded. “And no matter what, don’t let on that it’s actually 2010. Play along with the illusion. Allow her to enjoy her little vacation in the past. Odds are, she’ll be back to normal within another day or two. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to test some of the new tranquilizers we just got in. Supposed to be some straight-up dope in there.”

As he walked out, Hilda said, “I think we had a straight-up dope in here.”

“I don’t think he’s wrong, though,” Daniel said. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Betty had been in fear for her life, and for his, not to mention her friends. She’d been the one to stop Victoria Hartley from committing suicide. That was a huge amount of stress – and coming just after her new job and her father’s heart attack, no wonder she’d freaked out. By comparison, her early days at MODE must have seemed like a much simpler time. “We’ll play along for a couple of days. Let Betty work this out in her own way.”

“How are we supposed to do that?”

“Well, she’s still got her room at the Queens house, right?” With Little Mermaid sheets and everything. Daniel felt his enthusiasm building. _Go back to the beginning,_ he thought. _We’ll go back to the start of it all._ “Bobby can stay at his place for a while.”

“And Justin? Can he miraculously shrink six inches?”

“Oh. Right. Well, maybe Justin can – stay out of sight?”

Hilda folded her arms; her dangling pink earrings swayed as she shook her head. “I’m telling you now, no way we can pull this off.”

“Remember what Dr. Spaceman said. She’s helping fool herself,” Daniel continued. “Any little differences, she’ll gloss right over. I can let her come back to MODE – she’s already got time off for her injury at the NYRB, right?”

“Yeah – ” She gave him a look. “You’re all into this, aren’t you?”

He sighed. “Betty and I didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, way back when.”

“I remember.”

That horrible photo shoot: The same of it burned in his memory. “I know she’s forgiven me, but – I’ve always kind of wanted a do-over, you know?” Shrugging sheepishly, Daniel said, “Now I have a chance to get that, and help Betty at the same time. So why not?”

Hands to the sky, as if surrendering all responsibility to the Lord, Hilda said, “It’s completely crazy, but what the hell. We’ve gotta do something, right?”

“Right.” Daniel grinned, then caught a glimpse of the medical diploma behind Hilda’s head. His smile faded. “Does that say he’s a graduate of the Copacabana School of the Medical Arts?”

“If she’s not all better in 48 hours, we are so getting a second opinion!”

**

Ignacio hadn’t fixed breakfast for his family in almost two months now. For one, he was a lot slower going up and down the stairs than he used to be, and for two, he had to eat rabbit food these days. Fiber cereals. Skim milk. Melon. What kind of breakfast was that? So he indifferently ate whatever he was supposed to whenever he was able to bring himself to do it, or when Elena insisted, whichever came first.

But now Elena was staying with her sister out in Yonkers, and his Beatriz was home again for a while, and she couldn’t know anything was wrong. And that meant he needed to make breakfast just like the old days.

“Papi, don’t!” Hilda tried to snatch the Bisquick from his hands. “You can’t overdo it!”

“Pancakes aren’t overdoing it. You stir. You pour. That’s it! I promise, I won’t flip them.”

Hilda said, “You know you’re not supposed to eat anything like that.”

Sighing, Ignacio said, “It’s for Betty, all right? And for you if you stop fussing.”

Although she looked unconvinced, Hilda took a seat at the table. These days, when she stayed over during the week with Bobby, she often came down in pajamas and a robe; her new husband liked things casual. Or maybe she was just trying to match her old man – he rarely wore anything besides pajamas and a robe these days either. Now, though, his Hilda had on something shiny and green. Hair done. Nails about an inch longer than they’d been over the weekend: That girl was an artist with acrylics.

For his part, he’d pulled out one of his favorite shirts and some comfy slacks. They hung looser than they used to – and it was frightening to realize how much weight he’d lost – but it felt kind of good to be dressed nicely again.

Justin appeared, earning a gasp of disapproval from Hilda. “What the hell are you doing here? You know she can’t see you!”

“Man does not live by cafeteria food alone,” Justin insisted, grabbing a packet of Pop Tarts from the counter. “If we have to avoid Aunt Betty seeing me at all costs, does this mean I can stay over at Austin’s house tonight?”

“No, it most certainly does not,” Hilda snapped. “Reminder: Betty’s the one that got hit in the head. Not me.”

Footsteps on the stairs made them all straighten. Justin rushed for the back door, calling out in an exaggerated high voice, “Have a good day at MODE, Aunt Betty!”

“Oh, Justin – is he gone already?” Betty frowned as she walked into the kitchen. “I really wanted to talk to him about the magazine.”

Papi shrugged. “Kids these days.”

Betty sat down at the table, blissfully unaware that he needed any extra coddling or looking after. What a relief that was! To be able to do something simple, like stirring pancake batter, without having everyone hovering overhead every single second. Ignacio returned to his task with relish.

Hilda stared at her sister. “That outfit is – not your usual.”

“What?” Betty looked down at her clothing – a yellow dress with multicolored polka dots, a broad purple belt with heels to match, golf socks with little pompoms on the back, and a lime green sweater vest to top it off. “I wore this last week.”

“How could I forget?” Hilda said, then put her hand over her mouth, like that was tactless to say in front of an amnesia victim. Probably it was, but hey, if it didn’t bother Betty – and it couldn’t – Ignacio didn’t see the point in being upset either.

These had been happy times for his family, in their way. Happier times for him than he’d appreciated when they were happening. This go-round, Ignacio decided, he was going to enjoy every second.

And he thought he could flip a pancake before Hilda caught him.

**

“Excuse me,” Amanda said, grabbing the new receptionist’s chair and shoving her violently to the side. “ _Real_ talent, back in the house.”

“Take the week off, full pay,” Daniel said to the receptionist, with a smile that hopefully would smooth things over and avoid any lawsuits for whiplash. “Okay, Amanda, remember what we went over?”

“Don’t mention President Obama, my sizzling new career as a stylist, Tabitha’s Hair Salon Intervention on Bravo, the whole hostage deelio or anything else from the past four years. I got it.”

That list was more eclectic than Daniel would have thought, but it would do for now. “Great. Sounds great. Oh, Wilhelmina!”

Wilhelmina paused, mid-stride; the aquamarine scarf tossed around her neck still seemed to trail slightly behind her. It was as if she could carry around her own personal breeze. “Yes, Daniel?”

“You got the email I sent about Betty?”

“Indeed. Even by Suarez standards of mayhem, this latest predicament is – unusual.”

“So you think you can return to behaving just like you did four years ago?”

“Without Marc here, it’s going to be difficult,” she sighed. “He truly is the carpet beneath my feet. But – going back to treating you with total, withering contempt at every moment? … It’s doable.”

With a gleam in her eyes, she sashayed off, and Daniel got the sense she was going to enjoy this way too much.

But then, why should he get to have all the fun? Sure, it was frustrating, having to go back to the beginning with Betty – particularly since thinking about their one kiss made him desperate for more – but redoing their beginning, better than before? That was a once in a lifetime chance, and he intended to roll with it.

Quickly he found one of the MODE office’s many, many mirrors and checked out his look. Though his hair was a little shorter than it had been, he’d managed to create a similarly spiky effect with some hair gel. Purple tie: check. Oh, yeah, he had it down.

Amanda said, “I was going to switch to the Louboutins from a few years ago, but then I realized that Muppet Babies Betty wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, and also I would rather die.”

“I just canceled the temp for this week – but I’ll take care of most of my own work,” Daniel said. Amanda snorted. He said, “What?”

“Daniel, I don’t think you even know what most of your own work is.”

“Sure I do!”

“Where’s your corporate AmEx card?”

He thought about that, frowned, pulled out his wallet, didn’t find it and began the process of freaking out – all before Amanda held it up between two fingers. “How long have you had that?”

“Not long.” Suddenly she couldn’t look him in the eyes. “Definitely after the latest Kate Spade bags came out. WAY after that.”

Daniel snatched his card back and stuffed it in his wallet. One other important element of the illusion still wasn’t in place – but then she walked in.

“They say jet lag’s easier going west, but then, they’re all liars, aren’t they?” Christina McKinney – fresh from the plane where he’d bought her a first-class ticket to visit – rolled her shiny red suitcase behind Amanda’s reception desk and huffed her bangs away from her forehead. “I tell you, after six hours of plane travel, I could go for a scotch.”

“It’s, like, 10 a.m.,” Amanda said, obviously newly sensitive to such things due to Tyler’s influence.

“As far as my brain knows, it’s mid-afternoon. A gentleman’s six, you might say.” Christina looked terrific in her flowing jacket and brilliantly colored top, and – most importantly – not much changed from her appearance four years ago. “Now, you’re paying me for this week’s work, you know.”

“Absolutely.” Daniel would have promised Christina a MODE cover if he’d had to. He considered giving her one anyway. “Thanks so much for doing this.”

“It’s for Betty.” Christina shrugged, blowing off what had to have been an enormous disruption in her life. “She deserves this and more. And speak of the devil! I think he’s gone back to dressing her.”

Daniel turned to see Betty hurrying down the Tube. Her clothing was back to its vibrant, mismatched style – complete with golf socks and high heels worn together! – and whatever she had learned about hairstyling in the past four years had been forgotten. Even without those unfortunate bangs, her hair was now frowsy and limp.

Amanda cocked her head. “I can’t tell if it’s the world’s worst wig or the world’s ugliest hat.”

“Shhh,” Daniel said. All he could think was that she looked adorable. His Betty! His sweet, young, innocent Betty, back in his life where he could take care of her, like he hadn’t before. And he was surprised to feel a distinct erotic thrill at the thought of taking those clothes off her … but maybe he should hold his imagination in check for a while yet.

“Good morning!” Christina called. “Come here, you!”

She wrapped her arms around Betty, who returned the hug, but tentatively. “Um, hi! Wow, Christina, are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m rushing things, aren’t I?” Christina skipped back with a laugh. “Right, then! I’m headed back to the Closet. Drop in anytime, won’t you, Betty?”

As Christina bustled down the Tube, Daniel clapped his hands together. “So, good morning – ”

“What are you doing here this early?” Betty said, a worried crease forming between her eyebrows. “Did I forget a meeting?”

“Huh? Oh, no, nothing like that.” 10 a.m. had once been early for him to make an appearance – he’d sort of forgotten that detail. Daniel plowed onward. “I thought I could get our coffee today for a change. If you’d like.”

Betty gave him a stare as if he’d suggested dining on live toads for brunch. After a pause, she said, “Is this going to be like yesterday, when Marc told me the Chloe perfumed talcum was nondairy creamer?”

“Oh, no! Definitely not.”

“Just the same, I’ll get the coffee. It’s safer that way,” Betty said. “Sorry I didn’t beat you in this morning. I promise, I can do better!”

With that she was gone, a multicolored rocket zipping back toward the elevators. Daniel leaned against the reception desk, smiling after her fondly. This little trip down Memory Lane was going to give him the chance to put right so much of what he’d done wrong. To appreciate Betty – _this_ Betty – as he ought to have done from the beginning.

Today was going to be amazing.

**

 _Today is going to suck, Betty thought._

 _First of all_ , Daniel Meade had picked today to remember that the business world didn’t start at noon, which meant she was late – this despite the fact that she worked for a guy who was normally going to bed around the time she got up. Then Christina was acting weird – okay, friendly weird, which made a nice change from the rest of the MODE staff, but still peculiar. And people were staring at her clothes. Again.

Well, too bad for anybody who thought more about what was on their body than what was inside their head. Betty had bigger concerns and more important things to think about than fashion; she dressed for joy and concentrated on other, more crucial issues instead …

… like, say, collecting at least eight different brands of lip balm so Daniel could pick the best one.

He hadn’t mentioned that errand since the accident, but Betty remembered him asking. Who could forget that? Ever? This what not what she’d gone to Queens College for.

 _Everybody has to start somewhere_ , she reminded herself as she made her way through the Duane Reade. _Yes, this is turning out to be a bit – let’s say menial, but at least it’s simple, right? Anybody could do this! It’s a cinch!_

For a moment, her temples throbbed, and Betty put her fingers to the side of her head, attempting to collect herself. She felt the disquieting sensation of knowing she had forgotten something, but not being positive what that might be.

But the moment passed, and with a sigh, she turned back to her task, reminding herself that every moment of it brought her closer to her ultimate goal.

Back at MODE, she walked into the main offices to see Amanda kissing a guy. A guy who was not Daniel Meade, in whose apartment she’d spent several evening hours lately. Betty hardly knew where to look as the tall man in question pulled away, gave Betty a wave and loped toward Daniel’s office.

“He seems – friendly,” Betty managed to say to Amanda.

“Isn’t he hot?” Amanda propped her chin on her hands, and her smile was gleeful. “He’s my new boyfriend. I broke up with Daniel for him in front of everybody. Daniel cried. It was awesome, and it all happened just like I told you.”

Betty had trouble imagining Daniel crying over any woman yet born, but at least this would give her one less girl to keep track of when she was watching his apartment at night.

Blistex, Chapstick, Burt’s Bees, Rosebud, Kiehl’s, Carmex, Nivea, Vaseline: She put them all on Daniel’s desk. He was out; the schedule on his desk (which actually seemed to be in his own handwriting) said he had a meeting with sales. That was probably code for “a three-martini lunch.”

The phone on her desk began ringing, and she dove for it: “Daniel Meade’s office.”

“Is Mr. Meade in?” said a man’s voice, silkily polite and yet oddly aggressive.

“He’s in a meeting. Can I take a message?”

“Not right now. But let him know there’s another meeting he needs to take – let’s say, an hour after end of business tomorrow. It’s quite important. A game-changer, shall we say? He’ll want to be there.”

Betty jotted this down on a pink message pad. “May I say who the meeting is with?”

“If he’s curious, he can call this number and find out directly.”

Although Betty took the number down, she was unsurprised when the caller then hung up without even saying “goodbye,” much less “thank you.” Probably it was some pretentious fashion designer trying to build up buzz for their newest show or zillion-dollar handbags or whatever. She tossed the message atop Daniel’s in-box without bothering to mark it urgent. A good assistant would never waste her boss’ time –

 _\--even if he wastes mine._

Betty tried to banish the thought. She could deal with Daniel Meade as a boss if she had to. His neediness and demands would become predictable in time. Manageable. There would be nothing else to surprise her, nothing else to drag her down. Then she could concentrate on her career, really dive into the work she wanted …

Again, her temples throbbed. Again, Betty felt an odd disorientation – knowing she was meant to be somewhere else, but not where. But again, she pushed through it. Those were probably very ordinary first-job jitters.

As she got into the elevator, she initially gave a quick nod to the other woman riding down – then did a double take. _Oh, my God. It’s not. It is. It’s Sofia Reyes! My all-time idol!_

Had she read something about Sofia Reyes taking on a project at Meade Publications? Maybe she had. It seemed to Betty like something about that was niggling at the back of her mind. Whatever it was, it could hardly be as important as having her role model standing right there in the flesh. She had to say something, but she didn’t want to come across as a gushing fan. Finally, Betty managed to say, “Listen, I just had to tell you – I loved your last book. It really spoke to me.”

“Really?” Ms. Reyes seemed far more surprised by that than Betty would have thought. “I’m surprised you read it.”

“It was a national bestseller!”

“Yes, but – well, thank you. I appreciate that more than you know.” Ms. Reyes cocked her head. “Do you think Daniel read it? I’d love to know what he thought.”

Sofia Reyes knew Daniel Meade? _Well, duh_ , Betty realized: _If she’s working with Meade Publications, she must have studied up on Daniel and his dad._ “I’ll tell him you asked.”

“Oh, no. Please don’t. If he knew I’d asked – well. It’s awkward.”

Maybe that was some kind of publishing etiquette Betty wasn’t familiar with yet. “I’ll drop a hint that he should take a look. If he’s read it already –” Based on her few days’ acquaintance with Daniel, Betty found that unlikely, but you never knew – “then no doubt he’ll mention it to you. Probably he can’t wait to talk about it.”

That was glossing things over considerably, but hey, that was her job, right? To make her boss look good.

A slow smile spread across Ms. Reyes’ face. “That would be wonderful. Seriously – thank you.”

“No problem,” Betty said cheerfully, as the elevator doors opened and she strode out into the lobby. Her mood was once again sky-high. Sofia Reyes! She’d actually had a conversation with the Sofia Reyes! Oh, her life was about to become so much more interesting, so much more fulfilling …

… right after she picked up Daniel’s dry cleaning. From four different cleaners. “I like to comparison-shop,” he’d said.

With a sigh, she headed back down Fifth Avenue, determined to do her best with what she’d been given.

**

Hilda spent a frantic morning trying to keep her father from doing the breakfast dishes, or going out to play dominoes in the perpetual card-table game at the corner. One morning making pancakes, and suddenly he wanted to pretend nothing was wrong with him!

For now, though, Papi was on his own. She had an errand to run.

The best kind of errand.

She saw Bobby’s car half a block away and had run out into the street as if to block his path, like he hadn’t come there to pick her up. But hey, a girl got eager after a few nights without her sweetie.

“Where are we headed?”

“The LaQuinta out by JFK.” Bobby said by way of reply. “And hello there, baby.”

“Hello.” Their lips met in a long, satisfying kiss that was only broken when the gypsy cab behind them started honking for Bobby to move. As Bobby started driving again, Hilda yelled out the window, “Where the hell are you going in such a hurry, huh? Calm down! We have love happening here!”

One of Bobby’s hands found Hilda’s thigh, though he remained focused on the road. “How long is this amnesia thing with Betty gonna keep happening? I miss you something awful.”

“I miss you too, but it takes as long as it takes.” Hilda sighed.

Bobby’s foot stomped on the accelerator with all the eagerness of a groom who is about to be alone with his bride for the first time in almost a week. “So the doc said this is all a psychological thing? From the hostage crisis?”

“Yeah, and maybe some other stress.”

“Like what?”

“Well, her new job, and our dad being sick, and – ” Hilda paused, mid-checking out her mascara in the passenger-side mirror. She realized she had no idea what else might be troubling Betty right now. Not that being held hostage by a crazy woman wasn’t more than enough trauma to explain this whole thing, but still – most of their lives, she and Betty had told each other nearly everything. It spilled out while they shared a bathroom, or sat around the kitchen table, or hung out on the stoop. When Betty moved to Manhattan, both times, that had weakened slightly, but they had their cell phones. They made it happen.

Then Hilda had fallen for Bobby, and … that had changed. Hilda’s cheeks pinked as she realized how fully she’d allowed her new marriage to dominate her brain, so much so that she hadn’t sat down once with her baby sister to talk things out since – what, before the wedding? That was crazy! And yet, it was true.

She finished, “I don’t know what all. But something got her seriously rattled, if she’s trying to hide back in 2006.”

“Damn, I hope she shakes it off soon. Because it sucks not spending time with my girl.”

Hilda covered his hand with hers. “You’ve got a long lunch hour to work with. Let’s see what you can do with it.”

Bobby’s grin only widened as the engine revved.

**

Daniel returned from his meeting with sales to find Betty in his office – and for the first moment, the sight was so pleasantly nostalgic that he couldn’t help beaming. Soon they’d be talking over the day, and he could ask her about the Fabia Cosmetics spread like it was a bold new idea, and everything would be great.

Then he saw what she was putting on his desk: A plate piled high with – white goop?

“Daniel! Hi. I got you coleslaw the way you like it – no cabbage. Just tart, tangy dressing.” Betty looked frazzled, as well she might be after that particular task. “I got three orders of coleslaw to put together so we could maximize the dressing involved. And no worries, it’s not room temperature yet.”

Miserably, he said, “Oh, God.”

Betty’s head tilted to one side. “Did you not want it again today? After the last three days –”

“No, no! That’s – ah, that’s great. Very enterprising of you. But tomorrow maybe we can order in lunch for us both. How would that be?”

She nodded. “Great.”

But she didn’t say it like it was great. She said it like she knew she was supposed to say it was great. The way people talked to people they _had_ to talk to. Like their bosses.

 _I’m still just a boss to her,_ he realized unhappily. _A bad boss._ Daniel had wanted to redo this particular part of his life, but he hadn’t quite realized redoing it would mean reliving it.

Through an act of will, he kept his smile on his face. If they were reliving the parts where he was a jerk to Betty, maybe they could relive the good parts, too. “Listen – forget lunch tomorrow. Let’s grab dinner tonight after work. We’ll talk about the magazine. You can tell me a little bit more about what you hope to accomplish here. And … I know a place that serves a really good slice of pizza.”

Betty hesitated, obviously suspecting a trap, but unable to see one. “All right,” she said warily. “I’ll have to let my family know I’ll be late. And I shouldn’t stay out after nine.”

It’s going to be a job of work, cramming everything in before nine pm, but a man must do what a man must do. “Great. Thanks.”

“Oh, by the way, I ran into Sofia Reyes in the elevator.”

Daniel’s heart leaped. She was talking about somebody they both knew! Memory had come back in an instant! Thank God. “Sofia, huh?”

“So, you do know who she is?”

And his heart did the opposite of leaping. Not sinking, exactly. Slumping, maybe. “Uh, yeah. She edits MYW.” Maybe that would remind Betty.

Betty brightened up. “Sofia Reyes is doing a magazine for Meade Publications? Daniel, that’s, like -- I can’t even say what that’s like!”

“I’m sure I could think of something.” Daniel tried to take some comfort from the fact that at least Betty was smiling at him – _really_ smiling – well, maybe not at him, but in his presence and general vicinity.

Then she said, “Well, tell your father that I think that’s brilliant.”

As if Dad were only upstairs, a quick elevator ride away.

“Daniel?” Betty’s expression shifted into concern, and he knew his dismay had to show on his face. “Oh. Did I – I guess your father doesn’t need my opinion. Seeing as how I’m your new assistant and he’s a publishing titan.”

“I’m sure he’d be glad to hear it,” Daniel managed to say. And the thing was, it felt true.

“Well. Okay. I’m going to run some errands throughout the office. By the way, only one of those dry cleaners had anything for you. Are you sure you gave me the right list?”

“I’ll handle it. Thanks.”

“Enjoy your lunch!”

As Betty bustled out of his office, Daniel sat heavily in his office chair. The glistening mound of coleslaw dressing jiggled there, like some kind of invading space alien. And why were there eight kinds of lip balm lined up on his desk? Oh, crap.

With a groan, he knocked the plate into the trashcan – forgetting, unfortunately, that coleslaw dressing plus gravity equals spatter.

While using leftover napkins inside his desk to wipe down his trouser legs, he wondered how he’d managed to forget this episode in his life with Betty. No, her memory didn’t include the absolute worst thing he’d done to her; thankfully, that terrible photo shoot where he’d made her dress up for the mockery of others was one of the many recollections erased by her amnesia. But Daniel now realized that he’d experienced his own form of amnesia over the past few years. Although he’d never, ever forgotten that photo shoot, or stopped feeling crappy about it, he now thought that moment was so awful that its shadow had eclipsed all the other nasty things he’d done to Betty during her first week as his assistant. He’d allowed himself to forget them. Like one vast sin somehow invalidated all the petty tyrannies he’d worked on her before.

Betty hadn’t forgotten those. No, even now – when she was suffering from a head injury that knocked out events as huge as her new job, her father’s heart trouble and her sister’s wedding – even now she remembered the times he’d made her pick the cabbage out of coleslaw.

Daniel stared down at the leg of his trousers. The greasy blotches there wouldn’t be easily wiped away; they were seriously stained, if not ruined.

 _Tonight,_ he reminded himself. _Tonight you’re taking Betty out to relive some of the good times. Maybe that will make up for reliving the bad times. Because we’ve had more good than bad. Right?_

 _Except that time I fired her._

 _And the time I ran her down in her Blobbys interview._

 _And the time I set fire to her release._

 _You know what? This isn’t helping._

Daniel decided to focus on fixing the one thing he knew was in his power right now, i.e., his suit. The dry cleaning Betty had unwittingly collected from his regular place only contained a couple of shirts, but they’d have some stuff in his size down in the Closet. Plus, Christina did the best hemming of cuffed pants this side of Soho.

He headed down there, positive attitude slowly returning as he took some action – only to stop short just outside the doorway when he heard Betty’s voice. “Oh, I don’t know, Christina.”

“I’m telling you right now, you’d look marvelous in the turquoise jacket. Don’t ask me how I know! It’s just a feeling I have.”

Well, of course Betty was down here chatting with Christina. That was the whole reason he’d flown Christina over here – not only to complete the illusion that this was 2006, but also to serve as Betty’s confidante and ally again, as she had at a time when Betty had really needed it.

Resolving to let them have at it, he turned to go, but froze as he heard Betty say, “Well, I’ve got a mandatory dinner with the boss tonight, so maybe I should try it on. Probably he wants to go to some fancy place. He did say pizza, but it’s probably the kind of pizza that’s all, like, Turkish goat cheese and grapes and Brussels sprouts and other things no sane person wants on their pizza.”

“Give it a go, won’t you?” The sound of fabric slipping off a hanger accompanied Christina’s words. “And dinner with Daniel Meade, you say. Well, that sounds nice. Like he’s turning over a new leaf, perhaps.”

“That guy? Hardly. Today I had to pick up eight different kinds of lip balm, and go to four different dry cleaners – only one of which had actual clothes of his, by the way – and ordered coleslaw with … you know, let’s skip that. Now he’s demanding I waste my night on him the same way I waste my days.”

Christina tsk-tsked. “He asked you to do that _today_? I’d not have thought it of him.”

“He asked me the other day, and I remembered.”

“Ahhh. Well, maybe he’s not all bad. Your whole job can’t be a waste of time, can it?”

Daniel brightened. Christina was sticking up for him! Which was – unlike her, really, but then again, he had just flown her across the Atlantic to help Betty. Maybe that had convinced Christina he was worth rooting for.

“You’re right,” Betty said, and for some infinitesimal fraction of a second, Daniel was happy. Then she spoke again. “This job isn’t a waste. It’s my first chance. The foot in the door. I’m paying my dues and learning about the industry, close up – and that’s always worthwhile. Even if I do have to work for a horrible human being.”

Greasy-trousered and numb, Daniel shuffled back toward the elevator bank. Too late, he thought he understood why Betty’s mind had pushed her so far back in time. It was about more than escaping from the hostage situation, bigger than stress about her new job.

No, Betty had wanted to forget that she’d ever fallen for anybody who’d treated her as badly as Daniel Meade.

**

 

Monday ended just as Betty felt like she was finding her groove. She’d cleared away all of Daniel’s weird errands by mid-afternoon; he was oddly quiet the rest of the day, which let her dig into tasks that felt more appropriate to an assistant. His appointment calendar was in better shape than she remembered – and the notes were all in his own handwriting, which made a nice change – and she was able to slot in a few calls and meetings that came up for next week. She found a staffer who wasn’t totally hostile, a few of them actually, and finally got a solid understanding of MODE’s copy flow. That would help a lot down the line. Remembering what Daniel had said earlier that day, she even put together a few thoughts about the Fabia Cosmetics insert.

Of course, if he thought her ideas were any good, he’d steal them, but that was the fate of any assistant. Betty figured she could deal with that when the time came.

People began trickling out as the workday drew to a close. Amanda sashayed to the elevator on the elbow of that guy she was dating; Betty had glimpsed him talking amiably to Daniel across the office earlier, so apparently Daniel hadn’t taken the breakup that hard. Wilhelmina swooped out so dramatically that it was easy to imagine her being followed by her flock of winged monkeys. But Daniel himself showed no sign of leaving his desk … or recalling the suggestion he’d made earlier that day.

Finally she phoned Christina. “Do you think it’s okay if I just leave?” she whispered.

“What, you don’t want to pitch him your idea for Fabia Cosmetics? Thought it was a winner, myself. And this time, he’ll look at it straightaway!”

No telling what Christina meant by “this time,” but Betty remained reluctant. “I could just write it up for him. Leave it on his desk. That way I’d get to spend the evening with my family like I actually want to and pitch my idea.”

“And what are the odds of Daniel Meade actually reading anything put on his desk? For that matter, reading anything besides the expiration date on his packs of condoms?”

That was a good point. With a sigh, Betty said, “Okay, fine, but I’m going to ask him if he still wants to do this. I’m not going to sit at my desk for two hours just to find out he wants me to spend one more evening making sure his various girls don’t run into each other at his doorstep.”

“That’s the spirit, m’dear! Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to Magnolia Cupcakes. Been too long since I stuffed myself with some banana pudding. Best washed down with banana daiquiris – try it sometime!” Christina sounded like it was a big treat to head up to the West 50s, instead of something she could do any day. “Let’s be sure to do lunch some day this week, hmm, Betty?”

“Absolutely.” No telling what the rush was, since they could do lunch anytime, but Christina was definitely the only real friend she’d ever have at MODE –

\--Betty winced as her temples throbbed, and the lump still on her head seemed to remind her that it could always start swelling again if it felt like it. Disoriented, she looked around her until the surroundings were real again: her desk, the glass wall, and Daniel moping at his desk.

Even over the phone line, Christina’s voice sounded concerned, “Betty? You all right?”

“I’m fine,” Betty said, though it didn’t seem entirely true.

Finally she ventured into her boss’ office. He sat upright as she did so, as if he were worried about being caught acting lazy. “Daniel? Are we heading to dinner tonight, or have you made other plans?”

He took a deep breath. “Let’s do dinner. But Betty, I’ve got to say upfront, I don’t want this to be uncomfortable for you. I won’t make a habit of this. Your free time is your own, and – I admit, the past few hours, I’ve felt guilty just for asking you. But we’re just getting to know each other right now, though, so … maybe it’s worth an evening?”

“Sure,” she said, and Daniel brightened. It was as if he’d actually been afraid she wouldn’t say yes.

To her surprise, instead of taking her to the dreaded gourmet pizza place, he took her to a low-key joint on the outskirts of the theatre district. Delicious-smelling pies with the classic toppings, red-and-white check tablecloths, even a little stage for people to sing karaoke: It was just the kind of place she loved.

Well, she’d have to give Daniel points for trying to please her. It was a small gesture – nowhere near what it would take to make her forget he was a coleslaw freak – but Betty appreciated it all the same.

It only got better as she detailed her thoughts about the Fabia Cosmetics shoot. Daniel listened – really listened – and Betty found herself opening up, just a tad. “My mom was sick by the time I was old enough to use makeup. But I remember her showing Hilda how to apply mascara. I was little bitty – under Hilda’s bed, I think – and I thought I was hiding, though I’m sure now they knew I was there. It seemed like the most magical moment – my mother teaching my sister what it meant to be an adult woman. I wanted to be a part of that.” Okay, too personal for a chat with the boss. “Probably most women have similar memories of their mothers, and they want to share those experiences with their daughters. And advertisers can never go wrong by suggesting that their product enhances family quality time. Think about it – car ads sell places the family can go together. Food ads show families eating together happily. Home furnishings? There’s the family on the furniture. People love to think you can buy togetherness.”

“It’s not quite the same for fashion products – glamour and sex appeal work better there – but Fabia’s line already had that in spades,” Daniel said. “The special insert shows another side of the company. The female-bonding, the family angle – and it was shot to capture the glamour, too. I mean, will be shot. If we do it. Which we will. Um, probably.”

“You mean it?” Betty had hardly dared hope for that. “You’ll run it by Fabia?”

“Consider it done already.” A small, fleeting smile appeared on Daniel’s face. He kept turning his small glass of Chianti around and around, as if he couldn’t get comfortable. Maybe he felt out of place in a neighborhood hole in the wall like this … which only made it nicer that he’d brought her here so she’d be at ease. “Of course you get the credit for the Fabia concept, Betty.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

That sounded – too good to be true, particularly coming from Daniel Meade, but hope flickered deep in Betty’s heart anyway. She grinned at him, the first real smile she’d given him since their introduction; he seemed to like the look of it. And hey, her smile was probably amazing now, without the braces.

 _Too bad you never got to see it_ , Walter, she thought. They hadn’t been broken up a whole week, and yet his absence hardly stung. And yet her mind kept returning to him, as if her old relationship with Walter ought to remind her of something … a longing not for him, specifically, but for love itself …

Clearing his throat, Daniel said, “So. Do you want to put our name in to sing?”

She blinked at him a couple of times before she believed what she’d heard. “To sing – karaoke? You and me?”

“Sure. Why not?” Daniel gestured at the stage, where an elderly woman in an IHEARTNY T-shirt was warbling an ’80s pop song. “Maybe some Sonny and Cher?”

“If it’s okay with you – I’d really rather not. My singing voice is only good for the shower.”

“I’m not exactly Pavarotti either,” he said, as if that should be encouraging instead of the reverse. “Come on. I’m game if you are.”

This was getting into a whole weird area. “Please don’t make me,” she said in a small voice. “I’d feel really uncomfortable.”

 _Not in front of the crowd,_ she thought. _In front of you._ Betty minded Daniel less than she had before, but now – now his opinion meant something to her. His approval could be had, and might even be worth having. Which meant it was not the right time to make a fool out of herself in front of him, even though she usually loved karaoke.

Hastily Daniel said, “I’d never want to make you feel uncomfortable in front of other people. In front of anybody. So scratch it. Never mind. Sorry. Don’t know what I was thinking.”

Betty was starting to think that maybe he’d seen her without her braces and decided she could be the latest assistant to give him a blowjob. That would explain the sudden attack of niceness.

 _No, I think he’s actually trying. I could give him a chance, right? He seems to be acting a lot better. So why do I keep trying to see the worst in him?_

This reasonable question made her head throb again, but this time she simply pushed past it. Another sip of Chianti might help. Or maybe it would help more if she didn’t have to listen to this woman butchering “Breakout.”

A chiming sound made Daniel take his cell phone out of his jacket for a moment, but he simply shrugged. “That’s just Tyler. I can get him later.”

“Tyler?”

“You know, my bro – umm, my broker. He wants to talk stocks.”

“At 7:30 on a Monday night?”

He gave her a weak, tentative smile. “It’s never too early for the Nikkei?”

That seemed somehow off to Betty, but her attention was soon drawn away from their conversation and toward his phone. “Wow. What is that?”

Daniel shrugged. “My iPhone.”

“Your what?”

“Wait, did they not – God, that seems like longer ago. You’ve never seen one?”

Betty shook her head, and he slid it across the table to her. Wow, rich people had amazing cell phones. “How do you – oh, hey, you scroll through! I figured it out by myself. And the colored squares – oh, hey, this one is Tetris!” She got so caught up playing with the thing that she hardly noticed Daniel paying their check. “How come they don’t advertise these? Everybody would buy one, no matter how expensive they were.”

“Only a matter of time.”

The iPhone was only handed back over, reluctantly, when they finally stepped back outside. Heat the pavements had absorbed all day in the sun radiated upward, making the early evening almost as hot as it had been at noon. They were having such unseasonably warm weather – as it were the height of summer instead of the beginning of fall –

“Don’t suppose you’d be interested in talking a walk,” Daniel said, interrupting her train of thought. “Or a taxi ride.”

“Where to?”

“The Brooklyn Bridge?”

Okay, rich people might have great phones, but they were also deeply weird. “It’s about time I get home,” Betty said. She’d always wanted to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge and see the city skyline, but that felt too private to share with her boss. At least – at least not yet. “But thanks for the invitation anyway.”

He seemed incredibly disappointed. Betty once again entertained the blowjob theory (maybe he had some fetish about getting one while he had a view of the city skyline?), but not very seriously, particularly not after he flagged her a cab and handed her two fifties to cover the fare. “This is way too much!”

“I can comp it. Working dinner,” he said. “Have a good night, Betty.”

“Thanks. You too.”

She found herself turning to look at him from the rear window as the taxi drove away; Daniel simply stood there, hands in his pockets, watching her go.

Finally Betty had to admit to herself: _That went a lot better than I would ever have imagined._

**

“The whole night was a complete disaster,” Daniel moaned as he slumped on the couch in his brand-new apartment, i.e., the one Betty had never, ever seen furnished and now probably never would. “Nothing was the same. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be. But I thought if anything went the way it did last time, she’d remember. I hadn’t realized how much better we already knew each other by then.”

Tyler shook his head. He had come by to hang out on several evenings since the hostage crisis; some long-overdue brotherly bonding had finally begun. “Some moments, you can’t recreate. It’s better not to try.”

“I guess.” Daniel took a sip of his rum-and-Coke, which was currently masquerading as a regular Coke for the sake of Tyler’s recovery. “She did seem to hate me a little less. That’s something, right?” Just so much less than he wanted.

“Why are you stressing about this so much? Betty’s one of your best friends in the world. The doc says she’ll get her memory back any day now. You were kind of enjoying the whole trip down memory lane until this.”

Brotherly bonding had not yet reached the point of Daniel telling Tyler about his dawning romance with Betty. Now that Daniel finally would have felt comfortable talking to Tyler about it, the subject had become too painful to easily discuss. “Betty is – she’s the person who got me to stop acting like an entitled brat and start acting like a man. Maybe I judge myself by the way she sees me. That makes it hard to go back to a time when she saw me as a total jerk.”

Tyler considered this as he drank his own Coke, which was really a Coke. “When I first got out of rehab, I leaned on Amanda too much. After that whole incident with Victoria Hartley, I realized I was going to have to stand on my own two feet if I wanted to stand at all. And I also realized my world was bigger than one person – no matter how much that person means to me.”

Daniel considered this. “It’s only natural to lean on people you love.”

“When you need it, sure. The trick is not needing it all the time.” Tyler sighed. “I mean, I’m a pretty balanced guy, usually. At least, since my first visit to rehab. But learning the truth about who I was – my birth parents, you, Matt, Alexis – it seriously threw me off my game. When you and Matt came through for me, I realized I needed to be a guy who could come through for you guys, too. That there was more to me than the drunk I used to be. More than being Amanda’s boyfriend. I’ve got to walk the walk, you know? Nobody else can walk it for me.”

“Or for me.”

“Exactly.”

Betty wouldn’t want to be with a guy she had to praise and prop up every second. Daniel wouldn’t want to be that guy anyway. If he couldn’t face her not liking him at first – a phase of their relationship, as true as the rest – then how would he be able to face rougher times ahead? Because if he got the future he wanted with Betty – the one where she not only saw this apartment but someday moved in, the one where the little side room became a nursery instead of the place the still-packed boxes lived – there would be rough times. That was just part of life, even a good life.

From the start, he’d known he was willing to work as hard as he had to, to do whatever it took, to make Betty his. And now he was sitting here whining because it was a little harder than he’d expected? No, he could take it. He could deal. If he had to court Betty all over again – from the beginning – then that was what he’d do.

He gave his brother a sidelong glance. “You’re a smart guy.”

“Back home, they used to call me Yoda.”

“Really?”

“No.” Tyler cracked up laughing. “Gullible, this one is. Yes.”

Daniel set his rum-and-Coke aside to punch Tyler in the arm. Besides, he no longer felt like he needed the drink. “I feel the need to kick your ass at Madden NFL.”

“Oh yeah?” Grabbing for the controls, Tyler said, “Bring it!”

**

Another morning, another breakfast. Today: huevos rancheros.

Ignacio had rarely appreciated these simple joys before – cracking eggs, chopping peppers. He’d always liked cooking, but more in terms of eating the results; now, just watching the eggs sizzle and whiten in skillet seemed delightful.

“Papi, no!” Hilda said, once again fully dressed as she made her first appearance of the morning. “I bought Entemann’s coffee cake so you wouldn’t have to do that.”

“I like doing it. It’s fine. Save the coffee cake for tonight. I want to eat some while I watch my stories.”

“You shouldn’t eat stuff like that.”

“You bought it!”

“For us, not for – ”

“Not for the ‘patient’? Hilda, let it go. I’m good most of the time. One slice of coffee cake won’t do me in.”

From outside, he heard the sound of someone skidding across the roof, then plummeting down to the stoop. Once upon a time, that sound had meant Santos escaping from Hilda’s room, as though Ignacio were both stupid and deaf. Now it meant something very different as he heard a squeaky fake voice ask, “Is the coast clear?”

“Get in here, Justin!” Hilda said. He did so, eagerly grabbing a plate for some huevos rancheros. “You can’t eat those in the kitchen. She might see you.”

“Paper plate, Mom. Plastic fork. I’ll eat this outside and throw them away later. God, I am like, a walking eco-disaster. How long before Aunt Betty gets her groove back and we can return to more environmentally conscious dining arrangements?”

“God only knows,” Ignacio said. He realized he wasn’t necessarily looking forward to the day. Of course he wanted his mija to be herself again, to know that she was healthy and could return to her wonderful new job – but he liked revisiting this time in his life. He liked having a little coffee cake now and then. He liked cooking breakfast.

Footsteps on the stairs made them all straighten up. “Dining al fresco, as of now,” Justin said, heaping his paper plate high with huevos rancheros before hurrying back out the rear door. Ignacio shut it behind him just before Betty made her appearance.

“Wow, those smell great.” Betty sniffed the air with satisfaction. “Thanks, Papi.”

“How’re you doing?” Hilda asked, as suddenly and startlingly attentive as she used to be during Herbalife pitches. “Tell me what’s going on with you, little sister. Tell me everything. I really truly want to hear it.”

Betty gave her a look. “You’re going to tell me to try and get Walter back, aren’t you?”

That was a name Ignacio hadn’t heard in a while. Hilda’s eyes went wide. “That – had not occurred to me, actually.”

“Of course it did,” Betty huffed as she served up her own eggs onto a plate. “You’re always telling me how Walter’s the best thing that ever happened to me. That we’d have a good life together, the best any woman could expect. Well, I don’t see how it’s a good life if he’s not faithful.”

Once upon a time, Ignacio had liked Walter. He’d even thought Betty should forgive him for that incident with Gina Gambarro – because by that time, Walter was a part of their family, someone who had spent years coming in and out of the house as he pleased, who bought Christmas presents for them all, and who always gave Betty little tokens of affection, like keychains that were also flashlights. Now, though, it was impossible to imagine Walter as a suitable husband for her. They’d all realized that her horizons were far greater than any of them had once dared to imagine.

“I can do better,” Betty said, almost dreamily. “It’s like I can almost see who that guy would be. The one who’s my friend, but crazy romantic, but makes me laugh. The one who shares my dreams. And that’s definitely not Walter.”

Hilda seemed to be totally caught off-guard, a reaction rare enough that Ignacio could enjoy it for its own sake. “Yeah, no, right. Definitely not Walter. For sure.”

“I hardly even miss him.” This was spoken through a mouthful of eggs. “It’s like a distant memory already. Like my braces. Huh.”

Ignacio and Hilda shared a look. “You think so?” he tried.

Betty shrugged. “I know it’s an illusion, but who cares? As long as I can concentrate on my new job, which I think – I think might really work out.”

“Never doubted that for a second,” Ignacio lied, serving her another helping – and spooning out some huevos rancheros for himself, too. Just a little. A taste would set him up fine.

There was no point in staying alive if you weren’t enjoying life.

**

Daniel arrived at MODE even earlier than the day before. He put a Danish on Betty’s desk and even took a coffee to Amanda. While sipping his own, he strolled by Wilhelmina’s office, where she was busily examining the book.

She glanced upward. “Don’t tell me. You’ve finally decided to learn the difference between a caption and a cutline.”

“Betty’s not even here, Wilhelmina.”

With a shrug, she said, “You can’t ask me to turn it off and on like a switch.”

“Just wanted to say – something I should’ve said before, really – ”

“The possibilities are dizzying.”

“…whatever’s going on with you and Connor? I know it doesn’t affect how you do your job here. It never would. So if you were worried about that, don’t be.”

“I don’t waste much time worrying about you, Daniel.” But as her eyes flicked back to the ad spread in front of her, she quietly added, “I appreciate that.”

That had helped; Daniel knew that. Yet the simplicity of the moment drove home for him a fact he’d somehow failed to confront these past few months: Wilhelmina deserved more than this.

She’d always schemed and planned for more; Daniel would never forget some of the manipulations she’d worked to undermine him and his whole family. It was particularly hard to forgive her for driving a wedge between him and his father during the final months of Dad’s life. And yet – if he didn’t make it personal, if he didn’t look at the grudges or gripes or occasional felony – he had to admit that based on pure ability, Wilhelmina outclassed him. Or Mom. Maybe not Alexis, but Alexis showed no sign of ever returning to this side of the Atlantic.

By all rights, he ought to find a bigger, better role for Wilhelmina before she took her considerable talents somewhere else. But did the trust he had in her extend that far?

This was just the kind of thing he’d have wanted to talk over with Betty …

“Are you waiting for something, Daniel, or have you decided to add ‘room décor’ to your resume? Then it would be at least two lines long.” Wilhelmina’s eyebrow arched to exactly match the curve of the lapels on her Carolina Herrera jacket. How did she do that?

“Sorry. See you.” Daniel flipped her a quick wave as he headed back to his office.

He arrived in time to see his mother, looking equal parts amused and bemused, making an appointment to see him with Betty. “Yes,” she said dryly. “Daniel knows me.”

“Mom!” Daniel put his arm around her quickly. “Mom, this is my new assistant, Betty. Betty, this is my mother, Claire Meade. I bet you two are going to get along.”

“He’s uncanny that way,” Claire said, utterly straight-faced. “Sometimes I think he’s psychic.”

“You should’ve told me – sorry, Mrs. Meade.” Although slightly flustered, Betty regained her composure within moments. “Only one call so far this morning: The connection was kind of breaking up, so I’m not sure I really got it, but I think it was something called ‘Reel One’? Maybe some kind of film festival?”

Daniel shrugged, taking the note with some indifference. “I’ll google them, see what kind of outfit they are.”

“I can do that!” Betty hastily added. “That’s my job.”

She looked so eager and hopeful. Today she wore a brilliant red blouse that tied in a bow at the neck, paired with a purple skirt that had mustard-colored rick-rack at the hem. The golf socks and heels were back. His heart filled with nostalgia and affection. “Tell you what,” he said. “Let me do this. I have something more important for you to handle today.”

“Really?” Betty looked wary. He couldn’t blame her.

“What I want you to do is to crack open the MODE archives. Go through as many issues as you can from 1973 to about – say 1978. There’s a big ’70s retro thing happening; we might be able to reuse some of the old images for then-and-now photo spreads, or just use them for visual cues on new shoots. Look for anything that uses a lot of denim, peasant-style shirts, or long skirts. Floppy hats, too.”

She brightened as she jotted down notes. “Do you want me to make notes on font treatment, too?”

“Yes! Absolutely. Good idea.” It was difficult for Daniel to ignore the way his mother was stifling her grin, but he did his best. “Scan some in, have them ready for me at the end of the day.”

“Will do.” Betty paused for just a moment, her smile hesitant but a smile all the same. “Um, thanks for the Danish. How did you know I liked apple?”

“Like I said,” Claire replied. “Psychic.”

“Why don’t we talk in my office, Mom?” Daniel steered her in there and got the door shut before she started chuckling. “Very funny.”

“Look at you, jumping through so many hoops. Too bad Betty had to get another job as soon as she finally got you properly trained.”

“You’ve actually got her doing something useful. Are you trying to milk one more week’s work out of your best assistant?”

After considering the question for a moment, Daniel said, “I’m just trying to act like the boss she should have had all along.”

Claire’s hand patted his shoulder, fond and proud.

**

Hilda flopped back on the hotel bed, gasping and delighted. “Baby, you are a master of the quickie.”

“You oughta see what I can do with a whole night,” Bobby said as he snuggled by her side. “We should try that sometime soon. Any sign Betty’s getting better?”

“Not yet. But this morning – ”

“Yeah?”

“—all this time, I’ve been noticing how much she’s changed. Like, figuring out how to mix patterns, and finally learning how to do a blowout, right? But today she made me realize how much I’ve changed, too.”

“What do you mean?”

Rolling over on her stomach, propped up on her forearms, Hilda sought the right words in Bobby’s gentle gaze. “I used to want her to marry Walter … this guy she used to date. He was okay, I guess. But nothing special. I used to think there was no way any of us were ever gonna get more than ‘nothing special.’” Bobby’s fingers traced along her bare shoulder as she spoke. “It’s just weird is all. I really used to tell Betty to settle for less all the time. Not to go after the big job, or the dream guy or any of that. At the time I thought I was only looking out for her. Being realistic, you know? Now I realize I was just scared. If she’d listened to my advice, I really could’ve wrecked her life.”

He said, “Hey, look at the bright side.”

Hilda waited.

His face split in a grin. “Nobody ever listens to you.”

“You’re in trouble now, mister!” Laughing, Hilda went after him with the pillow, and he returned fire, and about 30 seconds of pillow fight turned into a couple minutes of passionate making out.

When they parted for breath, Bobby said, “How long we got?”

“Still got …” Hilda grabbed her cell phone from the bedside table. “Seventeen minutes before we need to be back in the car.”

“I love a challenge.”

As he pulled her back into his arms, he said, “I could come by the house, you know. Betty already knew who I was. I could act like I was taking you out on a first date all over again.”

“Aww. That’s so romantic!”

“Not quite as much fun as this, though. You know, I think I like sneaking around.”

“Yeah. Kinda makes it dirty all over again.”

Bobby laughed. “Far as I’m concerned, that girl needs to get amnesia all the time.”

**

Betty spent the whole day immersed in fashion … and liked it.

It was sort of amazing, really, watching the way the clothes changed season by season, year by year. Better yet was the way the magazine changed to fit the clothes, draping itself around the styles the same way fabric draped around the human form. Fonts were mixed radically, from elegant, old-fashioned serifs to wacky tube letters in near-neon colors – the identical way that calico and sequins had come into style at the same time.

 _Fashion is a kind of text,_ she realized. _You can read it. You can study it. You can write it, if you know how._

This was a revelation to Betty, professionally and, she had to admit, personally. Yes, she’d always adore vibrant colors, and she’d never turn herself into a person who preferred beige – but there might be a way to channel her love of hue and pattern into the forms MODE was showing her. Maybe this was what Daniel had really wanted her to see, with this assignment; he was smarter than she’d realized at first. Who would’ve thought she could learn anything from a playboy?

Not that she’d give up her golf socks, though. Never!

Better yet was the fact that she finally spent a day acting like a professional journalist instead of an errand girl. Betty knew her job would often involve errands – that was an assistant’s proper role – but now at least Daniel would only send her on errands worth running.

Her head swam again, and her thoughts jumbled together oddly: Understanding clothing, being a professional, Daniel being nice –

“How’s it going in here?” Christina stuck her head into the archives again. “Find any more lovely riding boots to show me?”

Jolted back to the here and now – or was it? – Betty shook her head. “I kind of like this wrap dress. This designer isn’t afraid of color.”

“Oh, my God – you’ve found the first MODE spread about Diane Von Furstenburg! Fancy that!” Instantly Christina dived for it, her lips pursing into a silent oooh as she studied the glossy paper. “I could dive into this like it was a Jacuzzi filled with tequila.”

“Well, I should go type up my notes for Daniel, anyway,” Betty said. “You were right, by the way. He’s … okay.”

“I think he wants you to be happy here,” Christina said, “And trust me, I’m not in the business of cutting him much slack. But you always bring out the best in people, Betty. Daniel Meade included.”

Daniel was taking part in a meeting upstairs as she wrote up her notes and finished her workday; he’d already sent an email telling her to feel free to leave when her job was done, even if that was a little early. Normally Betty would have rushed to the subway, eager to be home … but Manhattan seemed a little less frightening than it had a couple days ago. Maybe she could take an hour or two to just … explore.

Betty quickly texted her father not to hold dinner on her account, then wandered out into the city proper. Of course, she knew Manhattan well enough; she’d insisted on visiting as often as possible, more often than anybody else in her family ever wanted to go. But that meant Times Square, or the big museums. She’d never strolled past the luxury boutiques – at least not while she paid attention to the fashions showcased inside.

Some of it still struck her as absurd, and all the prices were outrageous: $15,000 for a handbag? For that you could just carry your stuff around in a brand-new Hyundai.

But it wasn’t purely laughable to her any longer. These colors and shapes all spoke to each other, in a way.

She paused a particularly long time in front of a store that had a pretty peacock-colored dress in the window. It seemed – familiar, in the way that beautiful things often seemed to be already known rather than discovered. That color would look good on her. Sexy, even. Betty rarely dared to think of herself as sexy … even Walter had usually described her as “cuddly!” … but she had a very distinct vision of herself in that dress, running out to meet some gorgeous guy who wouldn’t be able to resist tearing it off her body …

Once again, she put her fingers to her temples, but Betty realized the headache wasn’t actually any worse than it had been at any other time that day. The disorientation came from something else. Something she really ought to be able to call to mind, but couldn’t.

Disquieted, Betty continued her stroll down the street. At this next intersection, the shopping became a lot less fancy; instead of chic little bistros, people ducked in to eat at cheap Chinese joints or Quizno’s. The designer labels gave way to Old Navy and New York & Company. And there, on the corner, as brilliantly illuminated as it were trying to recreate Times Square in miniature, was the flagship Buy More.

 _Walter used to talk about this place like it was Westminster Abbey,_ she thought. _He wanted a transfer out here so badly. Said it was different. Special. Like any Buy More is very different from any other Buy More._

And yet she found herself wandering inside.

She wasn’t trying to reconnect with Walter. That ship had sailed. But when she thought about Walter, she thought about that longing for love she felt so sharply – with loneliness and yet with hope –

Then, in front of the television display, a wall of nearly 100 screens all apparently turned to different channels, she froze in place.

“The Super Bowl Champion New Orleans Saints began their training season today when –”

“President Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama welcomed the premier to the White House –”

“Ra ra ra-ah-ah-ah, roma roma ma, Gaga ooh la la –”

“Oscar-winning actress Sandra Bullock was photographed today with her secret baby—”

Betty stared. None of it quite made sense – and yet it did –

Temples pounding, she turned away from the odd displays to the one screen showing something familiar to her: an old black-and-white movie, one of the best.

“Casablanca”

“Play it, Sam,” Ingrid Bergman said. “Play ‘As Time Goes By.’”

The music began, and Betty felt all her other cares slip away as she listened to the words:

 _You must remember this  
A kiss is still a kiss  
A sigh is still a sigh –_

Watching this movie. Curled up in her father’s recliner. Her head resting on – on someone’s shoulder –

 _The fundamental things apply  
As time goes by_

Dancing at a wedding. At Hilda’s wedding. Daniel smiling down at her.

 _And when two lovers woo  
They still say I love you  
On that you can rely _

Getting the job at the NEW YORK REVIEW OF BOOKS.

Justin coming out.

Papi’s latest heart attack.

Daniel singing karaoke with her to “I Got You Babe.”

Christina throwing back beers with her in London.

Marc’s horrible mother and her furball cat.

Daniel begging for salsa lessons over the phone.

Wilhelmina drinking cheap beer out of plastic cups with her in the aftermath of her rejection by Jesse.

Amanda as the world’s worst roommate.

Daniel telling her that she took his breath away.

Henry. Gio. Walter. Matt.

Daniel kissing her in that dark room as if it would be the very last time –

Betty gasped. Her eyes went wide, and she lost her grip on her purse, which spilled out everything at her feet right there in the aisle. She glanced down and yelped, “Golf socks!”

“Ma’am, are you all right?” said a Buy More clerk.

“No! I mean, yes! But – I’ve got to go!”

Betty crammed everything back in her bag as fast as she could and ran for the exit. Behind her, Dooley Wilson sang, “ _The world will always welcome lovers –_ ”

**

“You shouldn’t have pushed yourself for me!” she said into her cell as she bustled back into the Meade Publications building. Good God, Daniel had even gotten her a security pass. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“More than okay,” her father insisted. “Just relieved to know you got the past four years back.”

“Me too!” Justin called over the phone. “If there is one thing I don’t want to relive, it was puberty. Not even for you, Aunt Betty.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “I’m gonna go back to my place tonight just to check on things, okay?” By now, Amanda might have turned it into a chinchilla farm or something. “But tomorrow night, let’s celebrate, okay?”

“With empanadas, I think,” Papi said.

“Dad—”

“Whole-wheat empanadas?”

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow. Love you.”

“Love you too. Welcome back to 2010, _mija._ ”

Family duty done, Betty impatiently counted off every second it took the elevator to reach the MODE floor. It was probably half an hour after most people left for the day, and even now, Daniel rarely stayed late when they weren’t on deadline. The office seemed deserted – but no, the light from his office remained on.

Although she’d run the rest of the way, Betty found herself walking in slowly, almost tentatively. “Daniel?”

He looked up from the photos he was reviewing, red wax pencil in hand. “Betty. Hi. You know it’s okay if you head home, right?”

She looked for the words, but none came, until she managed to say, “With Victoria Hartley – I was just so scared.”

His eyes widened. “You remember?”

Nodding, Betty said, “Everything. Absolutely everything.”

Daniel rose to his feet as she stepped deeper into the room, until only the desk separated them. “And you – you feel all right?”

“The headaches are gone.” They were, too; the moment her past had returned to her, they’d vanished for good. “When she had that gun, and you went back out there, I was so frightened. I remember pretending like I was still that girl who first walked in here and thought picking cabbage out of coleslaw was the biggest problem I’d ever have. It seemed – safer.”

The tension in the room was nerve-wracking and delicious at the same time. Daniel’s eyes were filled with relief, even joy – but also uncertainty. “That’s why – you think that’s why you forgot everything since then? Because you wanted to escape to that time?”

“To a time when I didn’t care so much about you. When the thought of something horrible happening to you wouldn’t have scared me so badly – I could hardly breathe –” Her throat choked off her words, and she had to struggle not to start crying.

“You think that was it?” He gaped at her. “Betty, I thought – I thought you needed to remember what a jerk I was. To tell yourself not to fall for me.”

“Way too late for that.” Betty shook her head, now caught between laughter and tears. “I forgot because the thought of losing you was too terrible for me to take. … Well, that, and the fact that I got hit on the head. Really hard.”

“Right.” Daniel still hardly seemed to believe it, but she could see hope dawning on his face. “And reliving the time when I was a total jackass to you – that didn’t make you, uh, reconsider?”

“Daniel, don’t you see? I went back to the only time when I didn’t care for you. I had to go back that far to find a moment when you weren’t so important to me. If my feelings for you weren’t as deep as they are – I would never have had to forget at all.”

“Betty.” His voice almost broke on the word. She could feel his eagerness as powerfully as her own.

Why was his desk so huge? Why did he seem like he was a thousand miles away. Betty wanted him nearer. She leaned across the desk, toward him. The distance between assistant and editor wasn’t too great to bridge. Slowly, Daniel lowered his face to hers. He was close enough for her to feel the heat of his skin before she whispered, “Next time you ask me to the Brooklyn Bridge, I’ll say yes.”

Their lips met, and all the other tumult of emotions she felt faded away. No laughter, no tears, only joy. Only the taste of Daniel’s mouth on hers, his hands cradling her face, as their second kiss turned into their third and fourth and tenth and too many to count.

**

Half an hour after Betty’s miraculous recovery, Daniel found himself on the chaise longue, cuddling her against him and wondering how he could go from total depression to complete happiness so quickly. It was like he’d taken the express elevator straight up.

“You wanted to sing karaoke again,” Betty said, her voice hardly more than a murmur. Her hair was mussed now, more from his fingers than from whatever she’d done to it that morning. Their legs were tangled together, and her head lay on his chest. “That’s kind of adorable.”

“I thought you said your memory had returned.” When she looked up at him, puzzled, Daniel added, “You must not remember how badly I sing.”

And there was that warm, delicious Betty giggle he cherished. “You can sing to me anytime.”

Daniel kissed her again for a few long, heady minutes. How long had it been since he’d just made out like this? Kissing, touching, embracing, not as foreplay but from the sheer excitement of being so close to another person?

Though if it turned into foreplay, he wouldn’t mind. At all.

As they broke apart, Betty seemed more serious. “Daniel – I’m so sorry I said that about your father, I didn’t remember –”

“It’s okay. I know you couldn’t help it. Besides, it was almost nice … thinking of him like he was just a few feet away.”

“And Sofia!” Betty covered her face with her hand. “I gushed at her in the elevator like I was still her number-one fan.”

“I’m sure she didn’t mind.”

With a sigh, Betty took Daniel’s hand in hers; he let it remain limp so she could turn it back and forth, like she even wanted to learn the angles of his wrist and fingers. “Soooo – I haven’t had dinner yet – ”

“Is this where we head back to the karaoke pizza parlor?”

“Or, you know, my place.” Her gaze darted up to him, and that one moment of eye contact made him go hot all over. “To check on things.”

“Oh, really?”

Betty’s cheeks had turned an endearing shade of pink. “I’m not necessarily suggesting you should stay the night. But we could – be together. Get used to this really awesome new thing for us. You know? And just see what feels right.”

“That would be amazing.”

Daniel kissed her again – a brief touch before they parted to tidy themselves and head out – which turned into another ten minutes of passionate groping on the chaise. Finally, though, they managed to get up, get tucked and look halfway presentable.

As they walked out into the elevator bank, Betty said, “Oh, my God – Christina! You brought Christina all the way over here?”

“She was happy to come.”

“I so need to do something special with her tomorrow.” Her hand tightened around his in a way that made it clear she wanted him with her tomorrow, too.

This is really happening, Daniel thought. Betty and I are really together.

Just before he would have pushed the Down button, the elevator dinged and the doors opened – and a man walked out. For a moment, Daniel’s brain supplied the name Alex. Not Alexis, Alex.

But no. Although this man bore an uncanny resemblance to Alexis before her transformation, he was someone else.

“At last,” the newcomer said. “I informed security that I had an appointment with you, but I had to drop your assistant’s name to be admitted.”

Daniel shot Betty a confounded look – I have an appointment? – before remembering the crumpled, non-urgent note she’d left. “Sorry about that. Excuse me. It’s … late.” He’d just have to deal with the guy now, as quickly as possible. “And you are – ”

The man smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.

“I’m Daniel Meade,” he said. “The _real_ Daniel Meade.”

Daniel could only stare. Then he glanced at Betty, who looked as startled as he felt. Then he turned back to the newcomer, still disbelieving.

Grinning even wider, the man asked, “Don’t you want to know who _you_ are?”

 

EPISODE END

 

 _  
Network announcement: “Ugly Betty Season Five: New York, New York” will be pre-empted for the next two weeks in order to present the special miniseries event, “The Author’s Trip to Spain.” Join us next time on “Ugly Betty Season Five” for “A Tale of Two Daniels.”_

 _(Songs: “A Rose Is Still A Rose,” Aretha Franklin; “Breakout” by Swing Out Sister; “Higher,” Creed)_


End file.
